Void
by mybagispink
Summary: Bella is a mental patient. She doesnot respond. Edward is her new doctor. Will he be able to take her out of the abyss that has sucked her in... possibly forever?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: SM owns twilight and the amazing Edward. Sigh. However, this story is my sole property. **

**PROLOGUE**

Empty.

Void.

These are the only emotions interpreted by my body. It does not feel, it does not respond, it does not scream. All's quiet within it. The only thing it senses is the overwhelming darkness. It stays still and detached; my body is my prison. I have remained imprisoned in it for the longest time I could remember. It has a will of its own, functioning without the need of a control centre; the mind. It will not obey my orders and I had long since learnt not to try otherwise, which would only result in an unnecessary encumber on my mind, the pursuit proving futile.

My mind is my sanctuary. It gives me company in those foreboding hours, distracts me and provides a haven from dread and discourse. It conjures up pleasant scenarios when it construes potential peril. However, we both have a colossal disparity on one topic; it would not let me die. Although my heart stopped beating a long time ago - or at least I have never felt its beat – it would not let me find that everlasting peace. But I tend to forgive it for this offense because it did a huge favour in return; my mind glazed my eyes. I no longer have to witness my contiguous surroundings and the only thing I see now is the spot in front of me. That is the focal point of my vision.

I am very rarely oblivious to my surroundings. Majority of the time I am full aware of what is happening but my mind does do me a favour by shutting down when _he _approaches because my body gives no response. It will not budge, even in the worst scenarios. In those times the inability of my body to function turns into my worst enemy causing me to be vulnerable and defenceless. I do not feel the agonizing waves of terror and anguish anymore; they have ceased and given way to numbness - which is most welcomed.

My name is Isabella Swan and will turn nineteen in September. I am a mental patient and this mental asylum is my current abode. My solitary possession is my bed; my grave. I am a former drug addict and a schizophrenic.

According to Webster's New World College Dictionary 'Schizophrenia is a major mental disorder of unknown cause, typically characterized by a separation between the thought processes and emotion, a distortion of reality accompanied by delusion and hallucination, a fragmentation of the personality, motor disturbance, bizarre behaviour etc, often with no loss of intellectual functions: this term has largely replaced _dementia praecox,_ since it does not always result in deterioration (_dementia)_ or always develop in adolescence or before maturity'.

My perception is that Schizophrenia is not a disease; it is the worst kind of torture. Every second is spent in sheer terror and there is nothing you can do about it. No remedy. No hope. No prevention. The worst part is that you are in an exile with not a solitary being to accompany your grief. You are alone in this reign of terror because you cannot trust anyone to help; there is no help. It is a never-ending nightmare.

I went through this nightmare every day for a year of my life before I finally snapped out of it and now I am just a corpse, broken beyond repair. My body is a hollow shell, which neither feels nor responds, but rather remains in the fetal position for hours to come. I do not have nightmares any more, rather I do not even dream. My sleep is silent, welcomed. I am bidding my days silently, waiting for death to embrace me and relieve me from this unremitting misery.

However, Schizophrenia was not what broke me beyond repair, _he_ was. _He _tainted me. Now I do not want my body back, it is dirty, contaminated, fouled and ruined beyond repair. I could never be _me _again. I am spoiled. I do not wish for death because I do not deserve such an easy escape.

This is my life. Vacant. And all I witness is… darkness.


	2. Chapter 1: Trapped in the Shadow

**Disclaimer- SM owns twilight and the amazing Edward. Sigh. However, this story is my sole property.**

**Chapter 1: Trapped in the shadow**

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,  
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.  
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,  
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

By Pablo Neruda

I could hear their conversation loud and clear. Their voices reverberated in my ear and I did not bother trying to decipher the words or to block out the conversation. I knew soon enough that their voices would fade away on their own and I would be transported into a world of oblivion once again.

My gaze, as usual, was focused on the infinitesimal gap between the white tiles in the left corner of the room. I never looked around to testify my accuracy of the geography of the room; I just remembered it from some hidden part in my memory, which I was sure I would forget soon enough. There were certain things that I just remembered, without any intention or reason, while others I just forgot. My mind did not function like other people. I have been dysfunctional in this aspect all my life.

Even though I have been a resident here for the past year, I could not conjure up a clear memory of the way this room looked. Looking around in order to satiate my momentary curiosity seemed like too hectic a job. In retaliation, my brain conjured up the memory of a general mental asylum room.

White, with a bed and a desk. White sheets. White walls. And a door with a small barred window. White door. All white.

I did not bother looking around to check if the description conjured up by my memory actually matched the image of the scenario at hand – it was enough to satisfy that minute part of my mind that still functioned on normal human curiosity.

The doctors said the sympathetic division of my autonomic nervous system had shortly failed to function. Sympathetic division stimulated the body into action. If I did not know any better, I would have stated I was simply lazy. Very lazy. However, I am aware of the truth.

I studied psychology, in bits and pieces, but I had the general idea. Human behaviour intrigued me. It fascinated me. I learnt everything with the dictum 'knowledge is power'. Now I have concluded 'Oblivion is bliss'.

At times, it is comforting, almost blissful, knowing the reason I act the way I do. To understand the complex terms they use to describe my situation. To understand what they mean. To know that in a twisted sense I am sane and that being insane is normal. There is a reasonable justification of the way I act. There is a definition.

I do not have to try to escape this situation. I do not have to strive. It is okay, to an extent in terms and definition of psychology, even normal to not want to get out of this daze, to enjoy this numbness. To know that there are people who understand, even though they do not comprehend. I could harbour the blame on the shoulder of some chemical imbalances. It is not entirely my fault and nature had taken its course. I was helpless in the situation. Knowing this bought an odd sense of satisfaction. It made it easier for me to disconnect myself from the situation.

I am not strapped to the bed at night anymore. Nevertheless, I could not feel any apparent gratitude for that because I know I have not given them any apparent reason to mistrust me. Although I do feel thankful, not for the fact that I do not scream incessantly; thrash around violently at night and hyperventilate at the slightest inclination of motion around me, anymore, but for the disappearance of the cause of such actions.

This numbness is a thousand times more welcome than the engulfment of constant, irrational fear. The irrational fear that coursed through my body like venom, burning my insides, heightening my senses, causing angst beyond mortal perseverance.

Seeing nothing is better than seeing everything. This is good. This is safe. Oblivion is bliss.

Death. That would be pleasant, welcomed even. However, that would be too easy an escape. People like me did not deserve such an easy release. Tainted people like me deserved to writher in agony.

"She has been this way for a long time. No improvements doctor," The sickly nasal voice crashed with my ear. I cringed internally at the sound.

"Hmm… Yes. I have gone through her case." The deep male voice rang out. It was… velvety. Somewhere, in some lost corner of my body, a slight feeling ignited.

My body however remained as unreceptive as ever. I was well trained in this aspect. No matter what storms may be raging on the inside; my body would remain in the same rigid position. The connection between my mind and body had been annihilated. My body had a control system of its own, autonomous of the orders issued by my brain.

The person with the velvetvoice approached me. As he came near I did not cringe away, I kept motionless as always.

_Go away, go away, go away…_I silently chanted in my head hopping he would go away and leave me alone but, as always, my muscles remained frozen, my eyes transfixed at the same spot on the floor.

I could hear his footsteps as he came closer to me. I held my breath internally as his hand extended towards me. I knew I would not feel anything when he touched me. I was living inside a corpse. My body had long since died. It felt nothing anymore.

As his fingers gently rested on my shoulder, I was shocked to feel a completely different emotion coursing through my body, which I thought had become immune to all feeling. This was the first time in a long time that my mind and body had registered the same thing. Over time, my mind and body had become two separate entities with entirely distinct modes of control. However, now something strange occurred. Electric sparks erupted on my shoulder and travelled down from where his fingers touched. On instinct, I wanted to turn my head around and acknowledge the source. My body remained frozen, once again returning to ignoring my mind and its wishes. It was in denial. It refused to acknowledge anything,

They say 'les yeux sont les fenêtres de l'âme' (eyes are the window to the soul), but my mind had created a barrier. It had cut off all links with the later, denying access to even eyes so that my thoughts were unreadable; my soul completely contained and hidden by my body. I knew my eyes would seem glazed as usual to the outside world, even if a battle were raging inside.

"Hello Bella. I am your doctor, Dr. Edward Cullen. "

As the soft, smooth, velvet voice entered through my eardrums and registered with my mind, unexpectedly something clicked. Someone had lit a matchstick inside. My heart enclosed in ice, long since dead; suddenly beat, for the first time in a very long time.

That was the first night since my admission into the hospital that I had a nightmare. A quiet scream escaped my parted lips and I sat up breathing deeply, uttering ragged sighs. My mind was alert. My body, suddenly, aware of its presence. I looked around, a little less frantically, noticing my surroundings for the first time. Before I saw too much I quickly put my head under the pillow and dragged the white covers above my head. I pulled my head out after a second and took a long breath for fear of suffocation. I shut my eyes tightly.

No. I want to return to oblivion. I have to succumb to my numbness. The world is too dangerous for me to return. I can never go back. I do not want to. This is safe.

I felt the wetness on my cheek before I realized it. Traitor tears had escaped.

I knew what would follow and I dreaded it. Flashes of memory erupted like fireworks. My heart felt the familiar, but long forgotten tug. I tried to drive them away but they kept returning. I had forgotten the exit and now I was running frantically trying to get away. All pursuits were futile. I was lost again.

Suddenly, like the breaking dawn, a voice drove away all these thoughts. "Hello Bella... Dr Edward Cullen." the smooth velvet voice resounded in my ear. The voice was beautiful. That was my last thought before slumber seized me.

I woke up the next morning with a familiar headache. I knew where that came from. I always got a headache after I cried. It was a reminder of my crying session. A punishment for the display of my weakness. That was the only reason why I hated crying which was otherwise a relief. It used to be fun to wallow in self-pity except for that wretched headache. It ruined everything.

I kept lying in bed. Light was creeping in from the blinds on the barred window. I watched the dust particles embedded in the light which seemed like magic. They had always fascinated me. I used to reach out to them when I was younger and tried to enclose them in my hand. I stared at them for an eternity. Until, someone opened the door and entered.

It was the nurse. What she said next made all the thoughts of magic dust particles vanish.

"Time to get up. Dr. Cullen will be here to see you momentarily."

A/N: Chapters are going to get longer from now onwards. Huge thanks to ingenuity15 for fixing this up.


	3. Chapter 2: Life Adjustments

**I am so glad and relieved to have this chapter finally done****, I feel like bursting into tears! It took me an insane amount of time and energy, to being even an infinitesimal amount of close to satisfy with it. **

**Thankyouu to ingenuity15 for fixing this up!**

**Disclaimer-SM owns twilight. **

CHAPTER 2: Life Adjustments

Down there I seem to be false to myself, my simple self that was,  
And is not now, and I see him watching, wondering what crass cause  
Can have merged him into such a strange continuator as this,  
Who yet has something in common with himself, my chrysalis

-Thomas Hardy

**Epov**

I looked over at the clock as it struck twelve and pinched the bridge of my nose while snapping the file shut. I had had it open for over an hour now, reading the same paragraph over and over again without deciphering a word of it. This behaviour was very unlike me because I always gave my rapt, undivided attention to my work. It was very unusual for my mind to be wandering elsewhere. Especially breaching upon forbidden territory as such; highly unusual.

The mind. Sigh. It works in odd ways. Once again a pair of chocolate brown orbs flashed in front of my eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that night. Those hauntingly hollow eyes. They seemed so familiar, like I had known them all my life, yet so unfamiliar and alien. This feeling matched the one when some one revisits an old familiar garden to find it barren and bare. I sighed in frustration and grabbed my hair with both hands. Why? Why? Why?

Why can't I get her out of my mind? What was going on? Her face was obstinately imprinted on the inside of my brain and refused to leave me alone. I felt a strange sense of déjà vu. It was the most outlandish and absurd feeling in the world. The instant my eyes had landed on her earlier that day, I felt like I had known her. No, I was sure I knew her. And not just as a face seen in a crowd and remembered, but as someone whom you have known your entire life; someone with whom you have a deep connection. I tried to dismiss these misgivings but I couldn't. It was the same feeling as when you forget something and it's on the tip of your tongue what you have forgotten, but for the life of you, you couldn't figure it out.

Or when you are having a conversation and are about to say something but at the instant you are about to utter the words, you forget what it was. And than you keep feeling like it was an extremely important piece of information and the frustration keeps nagging you, clawing your patience until you remember what it was. A brain fart some call it. I felt the same way about her; Isabella Swan. Bella. I chuckled humourlessly at the irony of the acronym.

Her name quietly rolled from my lips.

"Bella".

A shiver ran up my spine as I reiterated her name.

"Bella".

I jerked my head, waking up from my trance with something akin to a punch to the face. What the hell was I doing! Was I really that sick? God, she was my patient for crying out loud! The poor girl was a former schizophrenic. She was no more than a living corpse now. This was highly unprofessional of me, not to mention unethical to be thinking about a patient in other than the required context. She was just a patient. And I, her doctor.

My inner voice contradicted that I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was simply trying to figure out this riddle my mind had conjured up on its own.

I am a neuropsychiatric doctor. After high school I had a strong urge to go into psychology because the human mind had always intrigued me, but under the pressure of Carlisle, my father, I went to med school to follow in his footsteps. However, I ended up deciding to do my specialty in neuropsychology. I had worked in Chicago doing research for a few years but now worked for the Seattle Psychiatric Institute.

I had taken this job following my divorce from Tanya after two years of marriage. Anger coursed through my system as I remembered what she had done; what she had taken from me. Hate, pure inexplicit hate was threatening to take over. I pushed these sentiments away. Thinking about her made me irrational, and this was the only thing I hated more than her: irrationality.

I was twenty-eight when I got married to Tanya and she was twenty-five, only proposing due to the constant pestering by Carlisle and Esme, my parents, and that of my siblings. Apparently, I was the only one left unmarried and thus, according to them, unhappy. They all thought marriage was the cure to my despondent presence. What they did not realize was that what applied to them did not necessarily apply to me. This was what I got for yielding to pressure. I ended up with the bitch, Tanya.

My brothers, Jasper and Emmet, had married pretty young. They had found the love of their lives, Alice and Rosalie. I was not given the time to do so.

Love. That was the thing not only lacking in my life but also my marriage. I had met Tanya at the formal winter charity ball arranged by Carlisle. She was the daughter of our family friends and we had hit it off fairly well. Tanya was a lawyer, tall, blonde, beautiful and independent. A perfect woman for a single guy.

We were set up by Esme. Esme was all adoration for Tanya, pertaining to the fact that she showered love on any women eligible for me. I was her eldest and dearest child, mostly accounting to the fact that I had remained aloof from my family most of my life. I was very close to my brothers and I loved my parents but mingling and having fun with my family was not something I did.

I recalled the unfortunate night when I had first met Tanya. The ball was in full swing; my parents were on one side engaged in banter with Carlisle's colleagues. I was in the corner, seated at the table with my brothers, Alice and Rosalie and was, as usual, the odd one out. I could feel the piercing, dissecting gazes of the women in the hall on me. Alice added the icing on top of the cake by pointing out every single girl who was looking towards our table; i.e. at me. Then she and Rosalie would launch into a detailed analysis regarding each one. While Emmet guffawed the entire time, Jasper managed to pass me sympathetic looks. I tried to ignore all of them by immersing myself in my Blackberry. However, multi tasking was not one of my strong points and I kept getting distracted whenever one of them invited me to join their conversations.

"Edward," I turned around to find Esme gesturing me towards her, with a bright smile painted on her face. I instinctively had a bad feeling about it. A sudden wish arose, that I was still a boy and could turn the other way and ignore her. However, social norms applied now and so I got up slowly from my seat and headed towards where she and Carlisle were standing with Eleazar and Carmen Denali. Eleazar Denali, Tanya's father, and Carlisle ran way back. Eleazar was a well known cardiologist and one of the richest folks around. My parents were pretty much the same themselves, but they had nothing on the Denali's.

As I drew closer I realised that another blonde woman was standing besides them.

"Edward, my boy!" Eleazar called.

I shook his hand. Esme thought the customary small talk questions were dragging on for too long and decided to peep in.

"Edward, this is Tanya Denali, Eleazar and Carman's daughter. You might remember her from when you both met as kids?"

I shook my head and moved my hand towards Tanya. She gave a radiant smile.

I looked her over. She was dressed in fitted, black, ankle length, backless dress which shifted up in the front so that her legs were visible. The low cut of the dress making her cleavage all too noticeable. She almost reached my height of 6'3 with her high heels. She was elegant and beautiful.

"Edward, why don't you go introduce Tanya to Rosalie, Alice and your brothers?" Esme said, forcing me out of courtesy to spend at least some of my night with her.

Tanya turned out to be quiet perceptive. Sensing my slight hesitation she said, "Oh no, I wouldn't want impose Esme." She gave a polite smile at the end.

Esme waved her hand in disapproval and she looked over towards Carlisle. "It would be Edward's pleasure to spend the evening with such a beautiful lady," Carlisle said. I hadn't expected Carlisle to rat out on me.

I gave a smile and gestured my arm towards Tanya. It took her a moment of hesitation before she linked her arm with mine.

I introduced her to my brothers and their wives. They mingled well. Contrary to my initial impression, Tanya was very smart. It wasn't that I hadn't met many intelligent women, but Tanya was different. Something that I could sense from the start of our conversation. She was quite in tuned with my feelings and avoided breeching any topic which she could have made me uncomfortable or ones I wanted to avoid. It surprised me, to say the least.

It was so like Emmet and Alice to replay my whole life history in front of her. They took it upon themselves to narrate all the embarrassing incidents one by one before beginning their interrogation on her.

I found out that Tanya was a corporate lawyer currently working with the Kimberly Law firm in Chicago. She was also single, which was all my family needed to know.

The evening proved to be pretty decent, contrary to my prior expectations. We danced a little, talked and at the end she chastely kissed my cheek before mentioning she had had a wonderful time and hoped to see me soon.

Emmet provided the perfect ending by saying, "Dude, did you see her legs? Hot!" and receiving a painful smack on his head from Rosalie.

In the weeks that followed, I saw more of Tanya, Esme proving the stimulus. She started to hang out with Alice and Rosalie a few days a week and Esme literally fawned over her. We were forced into a date, or I was as Tanya was all too willing. She became a good friend and was generally a decent person; she was not intrusive and was good at keeping track of my moods.

After six months of dating, Esme began nagging me to propose. I kept stalling the proposal because I knew I did not love her. I thought over it and concluded that I would learn to in due time. A whole lifetime would be long enough I was sure. Moreover, it was not as if I loved anyone else. I was just not capable of it; of loving. That was not my priority for marriage, much less anything else. Love would not give me what I truly desired, my secret want; but marriage would certainly, or so I thought.

It did not take long to decide that the pros were more numerous than the cons; and so I proposed. She said yes of course.

She loved me. I was sure of that. She said it countless times, and even if she did not I could feel it radiating from her. I had never returned the sentiment. I had never said those three words back to her. Not at the time, we said our vows. Not in our wedding bed. Not at the peek of my orgasm. Not when I bought her flowers. Not when we hung up the phone. Not when I left the house for work. Our marriage was based on friendship and compromise. And my need.

A part of me acknowledged that I married Tanya because I wanted a child. However, the rational part of me kept denying this absurd notion. It may sound very strange; I do not know the reason behind this secret desire myself. However, it was very strong, this feeling. The first time I felt it was after a dream. I dreamt that I was holding a little baby girl wrapped in a pink blanket. Even in my dream I felt such intense love for it and... protectiveness. Yes, I was protecting it. From what, I do not remember.

I did not even remember the entire dream when I woke up. I just remembered the feeling of having her in my arms. It was close to a very different feeling I thought I had felt before. An exhilarating feeling I could not place, couldn't name. She felt so real. And after waking up, I craved to return to my dream. I felt like there was something missing, this huge piece of myself I had left behind. Like I was banished from my world, my home and sent to live in an alien place, with my memories snatched away from me, and only hollowness left behind. I felt empty, void.

I found that love was a foreign, yet at times, I felt like an almost 'sacred' notion to me. Tanya thought I did not believe in love, like some of the 'practical' people. It was true to an extent. I didn't, yet at the same time, I did! It is difficult to describe. It's like trying to explain faith to someone when you yourself are not sure what it is, you do not have the proper terms to define it in.

Yes, that was what love was to me. Faith. I did not believe in love because I had never experienced it myself but I had faith it was out there, somewhere. Again, it was all very confusing. I hadn't pondered much over it because, I guess, I was hesitant to find an answer I didn't like.

I suppose Tanya and I had a comfortable relationship in the beginning. Everything was fine with me except for the one draw back. I felt a slight nagging guilt in my very soul every time I had sex with her. It was great, the best I had ever had. However, it never satiated me; I never completely immersed in bliss after it. She was always putting more effort into it than I was and I was never really all there for it. Sex with Tanya for me was to serve only one purpose.

My feelings for Tanya grew the longer we were together, yet the hollowness inside me kept increasing with each passing day. On some days it would become too much and lead to despair. I wasn't happy. My feelings were never anything more than platonic and I felt like I was living a lie. I was not even sure where our relationship was going. Hell, I did not even know if I wanted to continue with it.

No. Tanya was my wife! I had made a commitment that I was not going to break. What was the use of ruining this relationship when there was nothing else beyond it? I was not perfectly happy with Tanya, but the truth remained that I was not really happy anywhere else. Maybe I was never supposed to be happy. And come to think of it, was I really doing either of us a favor by stringing her along while she hoped for the impossible?

I recalled the conversation which was the beginning of our end. I was sitting at the table with the laptop in front of me, concentrating on a recent research article. I didn't realize Tanya was sitting before me, filing her long, perfectly manicured nails, until she asked me a question and broke me out of my train of thought.

"Edward"

I lifted my head and raised my eyebrows at her for a brief second, to indicate for her to resume talking, and went back to the article.

"Honey, do you like me?" Her question seemed strange and out of place to me but I replied without lifting my eyes from the screen.

"Yes Tanya. Why wouldn't I?" She sighed at my almost robotic response before answering my question with another question.

"Do you love me?" she asked in a detached, dispassionate voice.

Her question took me off guard and my eyes flew to her face which showed the same lack of emotion as her voice. I wasn't expecting her to breech this topic as I had made sure before we even pursued a relationship that she knew how I felt about 'love'.

"Are we really having this conversation," I said in a light hearted tone, wishing she would just drop it, but at the same time knowing she wouldn't.

"Is there," she took a sharp breath in "Is there someone else you love?" Her voice quivered in the end.

Her question surprised me. What the fuck! How did she get this notion in her head? Why were we even having this discussion? I felt a slight irritation towards her. Not once have I ever given her reason to think I would be unfaithful to her. Strangely enough, her question disturbed me too.

"Is there a specific reason you ask this?" I enquired evasively, not yet wanting to answer her question without knowing where this was coming from.

"Please. Just answer me." She pleaded.

"No! Tanya you know...ugh... I'm not that person, okay! Love, it's just a word. A meaningless word!"

"Really? You know, you talk in your sleep Edward." I was really confused now, and a little surprised at the turn our conversation had taken. I couldn't make the connection between the two topics at hand.

"No I don't." I was sure I never did. I might stir on occasion but this would be the first I've ever heard of my sleep talking.

She looked at me sadly, as if she pitied my defensiveness. "You've said 'I love you' in your sleep. Not once but plenty of times."

I opened my mouth to protest. I was shocked to say the least. I knew I didn't love her, or anyone for that matter, so why would I declare something like that? Before I could say anything, or think further, Tanya lifted her finger, indicating for me not to interfere and to hear her out.

"The first time you said it was when we made love for the first time. I thought it was me you were saying it to. I felt such intense joy knowing that you reciprocated my feelings, even if you had said it unconsciously, but at least you felt it. I didn't mind you not verbalizing it anymore. I thought it was for me. But you're so... so distant. Even more so than before. Edward, we have been married for almost two years now! I thought you would eventually…" She sighed, no longer looking at me but out the window and into the darkness.

I remained quiet. I don't know why but this irked me to no end. Had I really said I love you in my sleep? I knew it wasn't Tanya I had meant it for because I would have known if I felt love for her. All I felt when I thought of her was… emptiness. There wasn't even contentment anymore. My life was empty. Tanya was great, don't get me wrong. All a man could ask for. And yet, despite her 'perfection' we were still drifting apart. My earlier realization had come back, but I didn't feel bad about it, even if I should. I knew any 'love' I could ever feel was for a figment of my imagination; a conjuration of my dreams.

I remained silent. I did not know what to say.

"Maybe you just imagined it."

Tanya gave me a look with sadness in her eyes which portrayed as if I had just crushed the last of her hopes.

She seemed hesitant before she continued. "Edward, I'm pregnant."

I stood stock-still for a while and then rushed to her, scooped her in my arms and kissed her hard on her mouth, unleashing all of my passion for what she had just revealed into that kiss. I could not believe my ear. The surge of happiness, which engulfed me with that solitary revelation, was more than I had ever felt in my existence.

Unusually, Tanya did not respond but rather drew back a little, stalling my movements. After a while, as I realized she wasn't responding, I titled my head back to inspect. She ushered me to sit in front of her, and held my hand.

"Edward, do you think these are the ideal circumstances to have a child."

I gave her a confused look. She stilled for a while and then continued with a resolve, which showed that she was going to let it all out.

"You don't love me Edward. That's okay. You know I understand. But shouldn't we give a little more time to our marriage before we make any hasty decisions. A child is a huge responsibility Edward. We don't even know where we are headed. And to tell you the truth, it's too early. I want to concentrate on my career," she hesitated before adding, "I do not want the additional responsibility of a child at present. Hell, I don't want a kid at all.'

By the end of her rant I was seething. Was she out of her mind? I felt anger coursing through my veins as my happy mood evaporated. I was seething. I wrenched my hand out of Tanya's grasped and stood up with a jerk. Her wrist firmly enclosed in my hand. I unintentionally increased the pressure.

"I want this child Tanya. Do I make myself clear?" I said in my cold steely tone, which I knew could make chills run up her spine.

"Ouch, Edward you're hurting me," I let her wrist go with a yank.

"Edward…" I stormed out of the room before she could continue.

I shrugged my head to clear my mind of memories of Tanya. I did not want to think about Tanya. Thinking about her made my blood boil, and sent poison coursing through my entire system. I hate Tanya. I could not even think about her without this blinding rage paralyzing me. She killed my baby. She killed my little girl. I could kill her. I want to kill her. I shook my head before anger and helplessness could further cripple me.

I moved to Forks in a desperate attempt to get far away from Chicago, from Tanya before I did something I would regret. I did not want to see her ever again.

Forks was a small and rainy town, wet and dreary, perfectly complementing my mood. I had gone there with the intentions of clearing my head up, but I couldn't remain idle. I needed to work in order to function properly; solve other people's problems to avoid my own. Therefore, I applied at the nearest hospital in Seattle and was immediately received as a neuropsychiatric doctor at the Seattle Psychiatric Institution, just outside forks. My fathers name came in handy, of course. He had worked at the local hospital there and he was quite an acclaimed doctor. My own qualifications were well above the requirements and although I was mostly into research I had a little experience with clinical. The pay wasn't much but it provided the much needed distraction that I craved.

Esme and Carlisle lived in Forks for a while after their marriage. They owned a house in the midst of the secluded woods. It became a sort of family house after they moved to Chicago so that is where I currently resided.

My mum got the house cleaned up for me and fully redecorated before I moved in. Alice, of course, was overzealous in the pursuit of helping out and so they fixed it up. Even after being uninhabited for all those years it looked welcoming.

After a week of settling, I started my job at the hospital and found that there was a severe shortage of doctors.

Today had been my first day and it started by becoming acquainted with the staff that was to work with and for me. They seemed nice enough but I was more interested in starting the huge pile of files that I had to study before I could start on with my patients.

I took my job very seriously. I was there to cure them of their own minds, not caring that it was going to be slow and tedious work; it was something I needed to do to cure myself. I was currently assigned fifteen patients; ten minor cases in ward number 3 and five major cases. The five extreme cases were listed as permanent residents and had their own rooms. Also, they were the one's who could afford it.

Although I received a very warm welcome from the staff, I found myself trying to avoid them all; especially the female members. They wore those skimpy clothes and used seductive voices around me. All this sickened me. They sickened me. They all seemed like desperate man hunting whores. I wanted to keep everything strictly professional. I hoped my curt tone, and impartiality would draw them away.

It didn't.

I went on my rounds with the nurse assigned to me; Lauren Mallory. She kept trying to engage me in a conversation as I tried even harder to block out her voice. Finally, I had to ask her to brief me on the patients.

I went around the wards first and found most of the patients here were aged. It took most of the evening to engage in a conversation with them and go through their files briefly, while Lauren briefed me regarding the condition of the patients and gave a concise history.

After finishing with the ward, we headed to the individual patients. I went through the first four patients without issue, easily able to diagnose their specific disorder and how to go about handling them from here on out. The fifth one was different. Isabella Swan. She was the youngest patient of mine but the most perplexing case we had. Her file stated former schizophrenic patient and now listed her as completely unresponsive. It didn't state a cause.

As we opened the door and headed inside Isabella Swan's room, I kept my eyes on the file, checking the details for a final time. I knew I would address her as Bella, for her file stated that she liked to be called by that name in her former days.

As Lauren was briefing me, I felt slight pity for the girl. Her case interested me and I decided I was going to divulge further into it. She could help further my research. I looked more closely at the file as we entered the room.

My first impression as I glanced over at her was that I was looking at a picture. She seemed surreal in her current pose, seated on the bed in the fetal position; her legs drawn up to her chest as her arms encircled them tightly. Her waist length hair was coarse and dry, hanging down her back to cover her shoulders and slight frame. The hospital gown appeared too big as the material seemed to engulf her. Her face was held straight, her eyes transfixed at a spot on the flour. Those eyes, oh those eyes. I gazed into them and their hollowness irked me. So I looked away.

I tried to observe her from a more professional point of view, but it was futile. Lauren's voice became a quiet buzz in the background as I looked at this ghost of a girl. Her face was sullen, her cheeks hollow. Yet despite all this she seemed to radiate a strange beauty, pulling me to her like a magnet. I walked towards her, my feet having a will of their own and gently placed my hand on her shoulder. A spark flew up my arm and went down my spine.

I felt a strange connection to her. She felt so familiar but there was something about her which I couldn't place. I wanted to stay there, did not want to move. I wanted to pick her up and run away, take her from this world and protect her from everyone and everything.

I opened my mouth to say something. I was my afraid my voice would come out strangled but it surprised me when I spoke in my usual confident voice.

So here I was sitting in my office at the end of my day; thinking about her. I was disgusted with myself. Not only was she my patient but she was just a child compared to me. She wasn't even fully out of her teens. However, neither of those thoughts stopped me.

Isabella swan was a mystery I was bent on solving.

I closed the file, finally concluding that I ought to go to bed. I took a shower, changed into my gray pyjamas and pulled a light sweater over my wife-beater. One of the drawbacks of Forks was that it was always cold. I liked cold, but like could turn to dislike when the central heating system was not installed in such chilled weather. _I will have to remember to get that done soon enough _I reminded myself. Esme and Alice had been more focused on the interior decoration than the comfort and functionality.

I slipped under the covers and it was an hour of gazing at the ceiling with chocolate brown orbs dancing in front of my eyes before I fell asleep.

It was the first time I woke up in the middle of the night, dry heaving. I looked over at the clock that read three am and I tried to go back to sleep, but it continued to evade me. My mind kept pondering over the disturbing contents of my dream and tried to make some connection. It was not until the early hours of the morning that I drifted back to sleep.


End file.
